Hitching on the highway in Normandy, France.  

The Gendarmes arrive, lights flashing, and inform us seriously that hitchhiking on highways is illegal in France, but we may hitch at round-abouts or on-ramps.   Naturally we apologise politely and shoulder our bags to walk back to the on-ramp.   The officer winds down his window and beckons me back to the patrol van again. 
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Mont-St-Michel”, I tell him.
“Come, then.  We will take you”.
He opens the door and we clamber in, and we chat with them about Australia for half an hour, as they drive us to the Mont-St-Michel turn off.

(BTW, thats beef jerky in my mouth, not a cigar.  I am not intentionally impersonating Clint Eastwood.)